How a girl gets a horse...

It was 1998 and being in a different country, speaking a different language isn’t that easy, but manageable. A bit harder to manage is riding 15 horses a day, cleaning stalls and look after the mommies and babies. But given there are 24 hours in a day, it is doable…

Nice thing about working with babies and mommies there are usually daddies too! And daddies make a difference! As a little girl I always been and have been a real sucker for Walt Disney movies, you know the ones that always end right.

So being in a foreign county with all these beautiful horses was just fantastic! There was one in particular, a Morgan stallion named Fox Trim Classic. He was just like the black stallion, but sweeter! Basically he was just big pup but nobody had the guts to compare a horse to a dog. Anyway, I had the pleasure to ride him in a big show and every day after. And I just loved the “big” boy. After talking to his owner I told her if I was EVER going to move to The States and if she EVER wanted to sell him for whatever reason I would take him! Off course being 19 years old and very optimistic and naive about live, I thought it was reasonable suggestion.

And live goes on…

When we moved to the States in 2006 it never occurred to me that Classic, was still around. He probably had to be in his twenties and after a full live of breeding every mare presented to him, I didn’t think it was a possibility of him being around and alive and kicking…

In April of 2008 I got the terrible news that I had cancer and I was very much lost and lonely (even with all my loving family and friends surrounding me) so it was a hectic and stress full time. But two weeks after I
received the news I got another phone call. From the woman who had Classic!?! If I would be interested in having him, he was after all retired and she needed a good home for him, because she was getting a divorce and needed to sell him.

After 12 years I said YES right away! It was just a gift from heaven to let me know that I didn’t have to battle cancer all by myself …

So he came, a little more gray, being beautiful, understanding, sweet and powerful and every time if I felt I just couldn’t do it no more I just have to look outside the window and see my black stallion and I know I can…

Dipshits and pressure washers...

This is a older post i posted on my facebook and hyves page in 2009.
Because i got great responces i'm putting it up again on blogger.

Have Fun!


As of November 9th 2009 I’m officially healthy!

The reason being: the didn’t find anything in my head and that I’m a blond, doesn’t have anything to do with it…

This means we do not have to go to the oncologist, dermatologist, gynecologist, ER and eye doctor every week. Now I can get myself together for 3 MONTHS, ahhh, live is good, before I have to go back! This means let’s kick some booty…

So in order to do that, I figured I might get myself useful and start with cleaning things up. You have to set the right example, right? So I got the pressure washer ready and started cleaning. Trying, anyway... We do not have a little pressure washer, it is a big kick ass thing apparently only to use by whom do not just have to do their driveways and cars.

So I turn the thing on and am about to fall in the derbis, of course for the obvious reason, it hasn’t been cleaned yet. I get myself back up straight and started… I’m a very impatient person, so it is nice to see immediate result. Not that it was that dirty but it is like when you paint, you notice the difference.

a clean milking palor

Next thing I know our guys (who were suppose to clean in the first place) are standing there, watching me handle that pressure washer… Yeah, funny thing... little girl, big pressure washer…
I could’ve kicked their booty’s right there, but I figured it is better to do that in a meeting with some proper translation (Spanish, yeah, working on it) and get some actual results instead of just some snickering and more funny jokes.

Next day I’m walking like an 80 year old woman, with walking stick, feeling terrible everywhere, knowing I didn’t kick nobody’s booty but mine. And yes, big pressure washers are for big guys not little girls who are just recovering from chemo…